


haemophobia

by allechant



Series: nosferatu [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allechant/pseuds/allechant
Summary: some people were afraid of blood. she was too, but for an entirely different reason.
Relationships: Asmodeus/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: nosferatu [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779190
Comments: 24
Kudos: 100





	haemophobia

She knocked on the door. “Solomon?” she called, wondering if he was in his room. There was no answer, so carefully she tried the door and found it was unlocked.

He was sleeping on his desk, his silvery bangs falling carelessly over his eyes. An open book lay in front of him and she smiled, shaking her head. How long had he sat there, silent and unmoving, poring over his latest grimoire?

She glanced at the small glass bottle in her hand, wondering if she should pour it out for him. The smell would no doubt wake him up, but he seemed so peaceful when he was sleeping like this. It made her heart ache, looking at his serene face.

She was hoping for far too much. She knew all he thought about was his research. He was obsessed with his work, constantly searching for the forbidden rituals that would allow him to revive the dead. He had given up everything he owned for more time.

With a sigh, she placed the bottle gently next to him, taking care not to rouse him from his slumber. It was good that he was finally getting some rest. When was the last time he slept? Three nights ago? Last night she saw him rummaging through the kitchen with a haunted look in his eyes. They exchanged pleasantries, he smiled, then he left the kitchen empty-handed, declining her offer to bring dinner up to his room.

Part of her wondered if he was going out of his way to avoid her. It certainly seemed to be the case. She felt the distance growing between them, even if he insisted that nothing was wrong, that he was on the verge of a breakthrough and he just needed to push a little harder – she could feel him slipping away through her fingers, and it made her feel…disappointed? Was that the right word? She wasn’t sure.

In the beginning, they got along so well. He was the first to make her feel welcome, the first to take an interest in who she was as a person. The others needed some time to warm up to her, and she didn’t blame them for that, but Solomon had a soft smile and a curious, observant gaze that never made her feel threatened no matter how much he probed into her secrets. She felt comfortable telling him about herself.

He was the only one who felt like he wouldn’t take her secrets and use them as a weapon against her. Eventually, she grew to get along with all of them, but he would always hold a special place in her heart. The recent distance between them made her feel antsy. Like her daily routine had been horribly, rudely disrupted.

Her eyes flitted to the bottle, then to his lips, which were slightly parted. In slumber, there was no frown marring his face, and she wished he could look like this more often, especially when he was awake. He was mesmerising, almost angelic in his beauty, and she found herself reaching for him – her fingers were almost touching his hair before she came to her senses and abruptly turned away, her heart racing.

Solomon didn’t like being touched without warning. She knew that, so what on earth had she been thinking? She glanced at him again and saw that he was still sleeping, oblivious to the world around him. She left the room, making sure to close the door quietly behind her, then exhaled and shook her head. She was such an idiot.

Deciding that she needed a distraction, she went down the stairs and headed to the common room, wondering if anyone would be there – if she was lucky, she’d bump into Satan or Simeon, and they’d be able to distract her with stories about their day. Satan was an excellent storyteller, and Simeon always made her feel at ease with his peaceful smile and gentle demeanour. It was practically impossible to irk Simeon.

She heard voices drifting from the common room and paused, trying to identify who they were – someone laughed, a sweet, almost feminine sound. Asmodeus. Another person replied, a deeper baritone that she recognised to be Lucifer’s voice.

What were they talking about? She was used to seeing the oldest-born scolding his brother about bringing women back to his room, but they seemed to be having a regular conversation now. She cleared her throat before she stepped into the room and saw two pairs of red eyes turning towards her, one pair filled with amusement, the other cool and aloof. “Aren’t you two going to sleep?” she asked.

Asmodeus chuckled. “Us? You should worry about yourself, little lamb,” he teased. “Night-time is when we are most active, you know…unless you’re Simeon. No one understands what’s going through _his_ mind.” He shrugged, though his gaze never left hers. She was unable to look away from him, and as she watched the tip of his tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. “Why don’t you come and sit here with me, hm?”

She smiled. “Aren’t you going to the pub?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Lucifer frowned at her comment, but Asmodeus seemed unbothered by his reaction.

“Not tonight. I like to have some time for myself, every once in a while.” He winked. “Though you know, you’re always free to join me in my room, darling.”

She shook her head, though her lips curled up at his casual flirting. She had stayed here for long enough to know that Asmodeus behaved like this with everyone, that it didn’t mean anything, and she didn’t have to be shy when he paid her any attention. Though admittedly, it was flattering that someone as gorgeous as him would give her the time of day. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t the most stunning of ladies either.

Lucifer sighed. “Don’t encourage him,” he warned her, and she gave him a demure smile, lowering her gaze politely. “Asmo, didn’t you have errands to run tonight?”

“Mm, nothing that can’t be done tomorrow.” Asmodeus waved his hand carelessly, watching her rather than his older brother. “And I couldn’t just leave our fragile little flower on her own, could I? She must be here this late for a reason.”

Asmodeus could be incredibly observant when he wanted to be. That was probably why he was good friends with Solomon. At least it _looked_ like they were friends – at other times they seemed ready to strangle each other. “I can’t sleep,” she said.

As she spoke, she made her way to the chaise longue. Asmodeus patted the spot beside him, and she was about to sit when his fingers suddenly wrapped around her arm and he pulled her onto his lap, laughing at her yelp of surprise.

Lucifer shot him a disapproving look, which didn’t bother Asmodeus in the slightest. “I’m going to bed,” the first-born announced, rising from his seat. “Don’t keep her up too late, Asmo. She’s human, after all. And she has errands to run tomorrow.”

“Just leave us alone, Lucifer.” Asmodeus tutted, and Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him, a final unspoken warning before he swept out of the common room, heading towards the stairs. Asmodeus waited for his footsteps to fade away before he looked back at her with a conspiratorial grin on his face. She couldn’t help but return his smile.

Yet when he spoke, his words were soft and sensual, and the mood shifted abruptly, making her breath catch. “Tell me, little lamb, what are you thinking about that’s gotten you so worked up?” he whispered, running a slender finger against her jaw. His touch was pleasantly warm, and she was suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that she was sitting on his lap. “You’re awfully tense, you know.”

“I’m not…” She didn’t sound convinced, not even to herself. Asmodeus smirked, and her mind blanked out when he lowered his head, his face suddenly right in front of hers. She couldn’t look away from him, from those mesmerising eyes that seemed to alternate between orangey-brown and vivid scarlet, depending on his mood – from those full lips that curved up when her breath hitched, inches away from her mouth.

“You’re not?” he asked, his voice quiet. “I can feel how stiff you are, darling. If you wish to lie, then you should come up with something more convincing.” He studied her for a moment, then she saw his eyes darken and he buried his face in her hair, a low moan escaping his lips. “You smell _so_ good. I wish I could just give you a little nip,” he murmured, and she froze when she felt his fingers tilting her chin up.

She ought to get off his lap and leave, but there was something intoxicating about Asmodeus – something about his lullaby-like voice, something about the way his soft lips pressed against her throat, that rendered her immobile. Helpless prey just waiting for the predator to pounce on her and devour her completely. “May I?” His voice was husky, and she felt rather than heard the question – his lips slid across her skin and she shuddered when she felt the slightest hint of fang.

She was tempted to say yes. He rested his mouth right where her pulse thrummed, racing from fear – from desire? Her fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, and his grip on her tightened, his arm sliding from her shoulders to settle around her waist.

If she was being honest, she had always wondered how it might feel. Ever since she stumbled into this mansion in the middle of nowhere, a lost traveller drenched from the rain, and suddenly found herself living in a den full of bloodthirsty predators – just a few months ago she would have thought herself insane for even entertaining this thought, but she knew them now. She knew what they were like underneath the masks, how they interacted with each other, how they had opened their hearts to _her_.

And Asmodeus, for all his usual playfulness, was perfectly serious now – he wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that. But there was a dark, almost feral promise in his eyes, a look she had never seen on him before, a look that whispered of unbelievable pleasure as long as she was willing to give in to him. She would be lying if she said he didn’t enthral her.

But then she remembered hooded, yellow-blue eyes and a haunted smile and she hesitated, unwilling to grant him permission but still halfway under his spell. Her lips parted as she struggled to come up with the words to respond, and Asmodeus took the chance to kiss her then, making her jerk in surprise – his fingers twined through her hair and she felt his desperation, his _thirst_ as his mouth moved against hers.

She stayed still for a moment, unsure of how to react – there was a little flutter in her heart, but she pushed it away, unwilling to acknowledge her possible attraction, the possibility that she _wanted_ this, that she _wanted_ him to bite her – and after a few seconds she came to her senses and pulled away, trying to control her breathing.

“Asmodeus –” she started, but then she heard a cough and looked in the direction of the entrance. She froze when she saw Solomon standing there, an eyebrow raised at the sight of them together. Suddenly, she just wanted to _hide_.

“I apologise, am I interrupting something?” he asked. She wanted to protest, to say that there was absolutely nothing going on, but then he met her gaze and suddenly she didn’t know what to say. His eyes were blank. Distant. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me dinner, but I suppose you don’t need my thanks.” His gaze flitted over to Asmodeus, and his eyes narrowed. “Please keep it down. Some of us are busy.”

“Just go back to your grimoires, Solo,” Asmodeus grumbled. Solomon gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and turned away – she tried to say something, but her voice failed her, and she just watched as he left, disappearing from her sight.

Once Solomon was gone, Asmodeus sighed. “He has an uncanny knack for showing up whenever you’re alone with one of us,” he muttered. “It’s like he’s _psychic_ …”

“I have to go.” She felt like cold water had just been splashed on her face – the fog of his charm had lifted, and she felt completely lucid. There was a strange sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, and she knew she had to go after Solomon.

Asmodeus didn’t try to stop her as she got off his lap, though when she glanced at him there was something almost sad in his smile. “Good luck, my little lamb. Lord knows you’d need it,” he said, and she felt almost guilty seeing that expression on his face – but it wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t interested in her. Was he?

She shook the thought away and went up the stairs to Solomon’s room, where she guessed he’d no doubt be, looking through yet another ancient spellbook. He was hardly ever out of his room nowadays. She took a second to calm herself down, her hand reaching hesitantly for the door. Squeezing her eyes shut, she knocked and waited, knowing perfectly well he was awake this time.

There was no answer. “Solomon?” she said, keeping her voice down – she didn’t want the others to hear her. “It’s me. May I come in? Please?”

A few seconds passed, again without any response. She was about to give up and turn away – maybe she could try explaining herself tomorrow morning, after they had some time away from each other – when the door suddenly opened and there he stood, watching her impassively. “Aren’t you busy with Asmo, little lamb?”

She winced. It was strange to hear him use Asmodeus’ pet name for her. Almost wrong. “We need to talk. It’s not what it looks like.” She stared pleadingly at him and she could see him wavering – she continued to look at him and finally, he sighed, beckoning her inside his room. She went in gratefully, closing the door behind her.

“Well?” Solomon folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know why you feel any need to explain. What you want to do with Asmo is up to you; it’s not in my place to interfere.” The lack of emotion in his words made her heart ache.

“But I _want_ you to interfere,” she protested. He didn’t say anything, but he stared at her with an unfamiliar intensity in his yellow-blue eyes, and she swallowed, trying to put her thoughts into coherent words. “After I put the bottle in your room, I…I went to the common room to try and distract myself. Asmodeus was there. We talked for a while and then – I’m not sure what happened, but we – I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Solomon tilted his head, his gaze still unreadable. “We are simply friends, are we not? If you want to fool around with Asmo, then I wish you all the best. Though I _would_ warn you to be careful. He’s quite the connoisseur of women. And I wouldn’t want you to break your heart.”

She could hear a note of concern in his voice, but the thought that he viewed her only as a friend made her chest tighten. “I don’t want Asmodeus, Solomon. He isn’t who I’m interested in.” He didn’t say anything, and she lowered her gaze to the ground, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She didn’t want to look at his face.

There was the sound of footsteps and then she felt his hand cup her cheek, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were lit with interest, and her breath caught as she met his gaze – something fluttered in her belly, a foreign sensation that made her clench her fists. “Then who are you interested in?” he asked, curiosity in his voice.

He was probably curious because that was just the kind of person he _was_. It didn’t mean anything. “Nobody,” she muttered, trying to turn away, but his grip was firm, and he didn’t allow her to move. “What business is it of yours?”

Solomon exhaled. “ _You_ were the one who came here, insisting on explaining the situation – then the moment I start asking questions you decide not to answer?”

She squirmed, uncomfortably aware of his fingers on her skin. “It’s not a question relevant to the situation,” she answered. As she spoke, her gaze flitted all over the room and landed on the glass bottle she had brought up to him earlier, still on the table. It looked like he had barely touched it. “Have you had your dinner?” she asked, abruptly changing the topic.

He seemed surprised by the sudden question. “Yes. I’ve had it.” He glanced at the bottle as well, and his eyes darkened slightly, his hand falling from her cheek. “I…” He hesitated, then he shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he murmured, but he had caught her attention, and she peered at him, trying to read his expression. For some reason, he looked almost _guilty_.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” She frowned. “Do you need more? Are you still hungry?” Strange, though. One bottle should be more than enough for him.

He met her gaze, and there was reluctance in his eyes. “Don’t worry about that. It’s nothing particularly important. But you should go. It’s getting late.”

“You know we have plenty more in the kitchen. Just give me a second and I can get some more for you. Then you’ll be able to concentrate on your books.”

“Don’t!” His sudden vehemence made her freeze, and she blinked, taken aback by the unexpected intensity in his voice. “Don’t take more. It’s not…it’s not enough,” he whispered, and she noticed with trepidation that his pupils were blown out, the yellow-blue of his eyes barely visible. The air in the room simmered with tension.

“Solomon…?” His name barely left her lips before he snarled, closing the small gap between them and pushing her against the wall – she couldn’t breathe, just staring at him as he towered over her, their bodies so close that she could feel his warmth bleeding through her clothes. His nearness made her dizzy. “What are you doing?”

“I’m so _thirsty_.” His voice was different, lower than she was used to, and there was a huskiness to it that made her toes curl. “You have no idea how delicious you smell.”

She gasped when his lips parted and she saw his fangs – it was the first time he ever bared them in front of her, and she wasn’t sure whether the thrill that ran through her was due to fear or excitement. “You can’t – you can’t bite me,” she whispered.

Diavolo had promised that she would be safe from the residents of the mansion. All she had to do was run errands and help Barbatos with a few chores. And when any of the men were forced to attend social events, she acted as their partner, helping them fend off the attention of the ladies. Well, unless that man was Asmodeus.

Barbatos told her once that Diavolo kept her around because she amused him, and she didn’t dare to question the word of the young lord who owned the mansion. In the beginning, she didn’t even realise they were all vampires; she just thought they had a strange penchant for red wine but assumed that was normal for noblemen.

Staying in the mansion was a far better alternative than sleeping on the streets. On the first night, it was a choice between this place or braving the thunderstorm, and after that, she thought it might be better to stay here and earn her keep than to try and venture out. The world was not kind to those who were penniless and alone.

“I can’t…” Solomon’s voice was quiet, almost dazed. “You smell like Asmo.” She felt his lips press against her throat and she tensed when she felt his teeth scrape her skin, a slight sting that faded into the briefest hum of pleasure. “I don’t like it.”

Should she protest? Should she struggle and scream for help, should she push him away? She knew she was supposed to. But she didn’t want to. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered, looking intently into his dark eyes. He groaned.

“Need to get that smell off you. Replace it with my scent.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she moaned when she felt his lips pressing butterfly kisses up her throat to her jaw, his breath ghosting against her ear. His body was flush against hers and she could feel every inch of his arousal – she whimpered, reaching blindly for him, and with a growl, he scooped her into his arms and placed her on his bed.

This was sudden. Unexpected. But not unwelcome. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he leant over her, capturing her mouth with his – she could feel his fangs in the kiss, leaving tiny little scratches on her lips. But they didn’t hurt.

 _The more attracted a vampire is to a human, the better that human smells to them. And that is why you cannot fall in love with anyone here_. Barbatos’ warning floated through her mind, but at this point it was hard to care – not when Solomon was on top of her, unbuttoning her blouse, pushing away the collar, his lips trailing all over her bare skin. Everywhere he touched felt hot, and she gasped when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, the area where her neck curved into her shoulder – her back arched and she clung tightly onto him, his name falling from her lips.

“You smell so good…” There was a desperation in his voice she had never heard before. “My throat is on fire. No matter how much blood you bring to me, it’s just _never_ enough.” His gaze was heated. “Do you know how hard it is to stop myself from pouncing on you every time you bring me my meals?”

Was that why he had been avoiding her? “You can have me,” she whispered, her arms looping around his neck. “As much or as little as you want. I’ll give it to you.”

He groaned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he hissed, and she pulled him down for another searing kiss, shifting so that he was cradled between her thighs – his hips jerked against her and she moaned when his hardness ground against her core, a wave of pleasure crashing through her.

“I promise,” she told him, her fingers winding through his hair. It was as silky as it looked, and when she pulled lightly at his silver locks he groaned again, his gaze filled with an overwhelming need that made her giddy. “I’m yours if you want me.”

“Me wanting you was never the question.” He didn’t bother to undo the rest of her buttons – he just ripped the blouse apart and impatiently pushed her brassiere aside, exposing her breasts. She whimpered when he took one pert nipple into his mouth, cupping and kneading the other breast with his hand.

Every time his fangs grazed her skin, she jerked, and she felt herself growing hotter, her body writhing underneath his ministrations. He was careful not to bite, though she was starting to wish he’d just _sink_ his fangs into her – what would it feel like, to be bitten by Solomon? She had heard from the other residents about how _enjoyable_ a vampire’s bite could be. The thought of being bitten by him…

Another spasm of pleasure shot through her, going straight to her pussy. She was already wet, and she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist, hoping he’d get her message – she wanted something in her. Now. Solomon let his tongue flick against her nipple once more before he let go, and she was unable to stop the cry from escaping her lips. “What do you want?” he murmured, his voice husky.

“You. Inside me. Please.” She was too far gone to care about being embarrassed, and his eyes narrowed at her plea – within seconds he had peeled her skirt off her body, and she was tilting her hips, encouraging him to strip her even more.

He didn’t touch her panties, though the heated look he shot her went straight to her groin, and she had to clench her thighs together – instead, Solomon removed his shirt and undid his belt, stepping out of his pants in one smooth, fluid motion. The next instant he was back on the bed, his fingers sliding over her wet sex, and she bit her lip, frustrated by the thin layer of cloth that separated them.

She moved her hands down, prepared to remove her underwear herself if she had to, but his hands seized her wrists, preventing her from going any further. “No.” He stared down at her, and she whined, arching her back – his fingers tightened. “Let me…let me do this,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Please.”

She couldn’t turn down the plea in his voice, so she nodded, and he exhaled, his grip on her loosening slightly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers drifting back to the hem of her underwear – slowly, languidly, he slid a finger against her pussy, teasing her through the damp cloth. She gasped, pressing her thighs together, but he shifted so that he was between her legs, preventing her from closing them. “And so wet for me.” He inhaled, blinking slowly, and he looked almost dazed.

He pushed her panties aside then, hooking them with one finger, and she shivered when he lowered his face, his sharp teeth teasing the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. Every fleeting touch made her shiver, her fingers sinking into his blanket, her head jerking back into the pillows. His lips lingered on her, soft, tantalising, _torturous_.

“You smell so good.” She barely heard his whisper, and she looked at him through eyes that prickled with tears – he sucked gently on her inner thigh and she cried his name, her skin beyond sensitive at this point. “Do you – do you want me to bite?”

For a moment, he sounded almost afraid, but she swallowed and nodded, holding his gaze. His eyes widened, and he looked at her with an expression so tender that she could feel herself melting – then in the next moment she felt a sharp sting and she jerked into his mouth as his fangs sank into the soft skin of her thigh.

The sting lasted barely even a second. Suddenly all she felt was heat, the sensation of his mouth on her, the warm liquid dripping down her skin – she sank into the waves of pleasure that swept through her, the fever in her body reaching an intensity she never thought possible. It felt like she was about to combust.

Her body was tightening, and everything hurt in the most exquisite way. She was so close, she was teetering on the precipice of the most glorious fall, and her fingers reached for him, her back arching so that she could twine her fingers through his hair. She could barely register anything that wasn’t him. She trembled, wishing this would come to an end but at the same time hoping he would dangle her in the jaws of eternity, hoping that this beautiful, delicate torture would never reach its climax.

She only vaguely felt his hands tearing off her panties, and then his fingers were in her and she _screamed_ , the burn from his bite and the sensation of his hand on her sex proving to be a lethal combination – she came undone around him, sobbing his name like a prayer, and she felt his tongue run over her thigh, cleaning off the wound he left behind. His eyes were bright, feverish. She felt light-headed.

He didn’t say a word. He just shifted his hands underneath her thighs and brought her legs up to rest on his shoulders – when he slid himself into her, she spasmed, still sensitive from her high. He pounded into her with the ferocity of a man possessed and she lost herself entirely in the euphoria of his touch, unable to put together a coherent thought. _Solomon, Solomon_. Her mind was full of his name, and when he leant down to kiss her – she noticed his fangs were gone – she kissed him back with careless abandon, her legs shifting to wrap tightly around his waist instead.

“Solomon!” She choked out his name when he drove himself into her, deeper than he was before – his head fell against her neck and he was panting, his fingers wrapping around her wrists and holding her down. Her hips were tilted up to meet his, and she could feel him constantly hitting a particular spot within her that made her body quiver. “Please. Please. I-I want…” She didn’t know what she wanted.

But he seemed to understand. He let go of one wrist to squeeze her breast and she arched into his palm, her eyes rolling back. With a quiet hiss, he slipped his hand between her legs, circling her clit as he continued to pound into her, and before long she was screaming again, her body clenching tightly around him, desperate for him to join her in her blissful throes of pleasure – a few more thrusts and then he spilt himself within her, gasping her name, his hands reaching up to push her hair away from her eyes.

He remained inside her for a while, and she tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving. His silver bangs were plastered to his forehead, and his eyes, though still filled with desire, were no longer as predatory as they were earlier. His gaze flitted from her face to her bare breasts, then back again. “I…I should apologise.”

“For bedding me?” she demanded. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

“No. I mean yes. But no.” Solomon looked almost embarrassed now, though he had yet to slip out of her. “For biting you. I might have taken a little too much…”

That explained her dizziness. She had thought it was just the sex. “I wanted you to. Don’t feel guilty.” She reached up to cup his face, though her arms trembled from the effort. “You need my blood, don’t you? You kept saying you were thirsty.”

He frowned. “I do. I hate it.” He lowered himself onto her so that his body pressed against hers, their faces mere inches apart. “You were told, weren’t you? When we fall for someone, all we can think about is that person’s blood. It sings to us. All the blood we drink from other sources…it becomes bland. Flavourless. Disgusting.”

She suddenly remembered the recent skipped meals, the haunted look in his eyes, the listless foraging in the kitchen. “How long has it been?”

“A month,” he whispered. “A month since I realised my feelings for you. A month since I drank anything that pleased me. A month where just _smelling_ your scent was enough to light an inextinguishable fire in my throat.”

“Were you avoiding me to protect me?” she asked wonderingly. He hesitated, then he looked away from her, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

“If we aren’t careful, I could very well lose control and drain you dry one day,” he murmured. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to be responsible for the death of yet another person I care about. That’s all.”

A person he cared about. Her breath caught even as sorrow filled her chest – it was this haunted, mournful gaze which first drew her to him, and gently she turned his face back towards her. “I’m stronger than you think I am,” she promised.

He laughed. “I’m afraid I must agree. Only strong-willed women or blatant fools would tempt Asmodeus without giving him what he wants.”

She blushed at the teasing lilt in his voice. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“I can’t blame you. He’s quite the charmer. The way he persuades women to lie with him is an art in itself.” His voice hardened. “But you’re _mine_ now, and I’m afraid I don’t share. No matter how sweetly your blood sings for the rest of them.”

The ring of possessiveness in his voice made her toes curl. “I’m yours,” she agreed, her heart racing at the confession.

“Yes,” he answered, ghosting his lips across her throat. She sighed, shuddering at his gentle touch. “And I’m yours.” He held her gaze, then he gave her the sweetest of smiles, one that made her stomach flip. “I love you, _ahuvati_. You give this cursed second existence of mine something to live for.”

“I love you too.” She traced his perfect features with her fingertips, drinking in the sight of this beautiful man looking at her with such tender adoration in his eyes.

He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking against her, and she gasped, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. “Wait. You still want to continue?”

“You thought that was the end?” He raised an eyebrow. “Now that you’re mine, I’ll have to mark every part of you. The others need to know who you chose, and I’m not letting you go until you smell like me, and your blood whispers my name.”

Those words were filled with promise, and she closed her eyes, a soft, needy moan escaping her. “Whatever you want,” she told him, and he captured her mouth in another kiss, this time soft and loving.

She could drown in his arms. She _wanted_ to. The rest of the night, she forgot her name and her very identity, losing herself in him, and he in her. When she woke up the next morning with her limbs sore and his arms wrapped loosely around her, a strange feeling of peace spread throughout her entire body, and she smiled.

He was a dream, the most beautiful dream she ever had. She didn’t know if he was real or a mere figment of her imagination, but either way, she wasn’t prepared to wake up. She didn’t want to let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> this was completely self-indulgent, don't mind me.
> 
> yell at me on [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/dontenchantme)


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